


Eleven full moons

by JenniferHawke



Series: Written in Starlight [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Dragon 4ge Day, Dragon Age Day, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-18 13:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21678280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferHawke/pseuds/JenniferHawke
Summary: It is just as he feared. Fenris had hoped it would not come to this. He hoped that when he left her, she would see him for what he truly is … a broken thing.  Something that would only serve to hurt her again and again. Written for Dragon Age Day.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke, Fenris/Female Hawke
Series: Written in Starlight [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567765
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Eleven full moons

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to “No longer beautiful” (but it can be read as a stand alone as well). I wrote this for the Dragon Age day prompt “Endings”. I took inspiration from a RP I wrote with the amazingly talented ‘Fenris Leto Liberati’ in the FB DARP community. This one’s for you, dear.

Fenris stares into the hearth of his chambers, watching as the flames consume yet another book he deems useless. The stolen manor is full of them – magical tomes mostly. Things he has no use for. On particularly restless nights such as this, when his blood burns with a poisonous hate, when he thirsts not for wine but vengeance, he throws old belongings into the flames. They are likely not Danarius’, probably having belonged to the previous owner of the estate, but Fenris pretends. He pretends they are his former Master’s, and when that is not enough to sate his ire, he imagines what it would be like to see the magister himself consumed by the devastating flames. Fenris longs for the day when he will finally be free from this madness. 

Eleven full moons have passed since the day he killed Hadriana. He thinks of it often, he wishes he could remember it fondly. But no such joy is found when reflecting on her death, not when words of a sister had been breathed to life moments before Hadriana’s demise. Eleven moons, and yet no word from any of Varric’s contacts on where this sister might be. If things were different, perhaps he would have moved on from Kirkwall by now. Perhaps he would have returned to Tevinter, a place he vowed never to step foot in again, and seek out answers for himself. But he cannot leave … not when it means forever saying goodbye to the one good thing in his life.

Even though eleven full moons have passed, Fenris has not forgotten _that night_. With great clarity, he remembers every little detail. Lips as soft as silk caressing his own. The taste of summer rain gliding against his tongue. Heart racing as if it wished to part from his chest. A caged animal being freed from his prison at words that touch the depth of his soul. A steely heart softening as they join as one. The promise of a better life, of a world free from anguish found in her loving embrace. Hidden memories birthed anew and ripped away by the cruel hand of a former Master, a threat always breathing down his neck. The realisation that he cannot give her what she deserves, no matter how desperately he wishes to remain at her side. Desperate eyes pleading with him not to leave … pleas that he ignores all the same, for it would be kinder this way, even as it kills him inside.

Fenris closes his eyes, feeling the warmth of the fire, wishing it was the heat of Hawke wrapped up around him. It would be easy to walk the short distance to her home, to beg her forgiveness, to find absolution in her tender embrace. But Hawke will never be safe with him. Not with the threat of Danarius always looming above him. The memories that haunted him after they lay together served as a cruel reminder that he’d never be free of Danarius. Not until Fenris could watch the life from his eyes fade away as he had with Hadriana’s. Perhaps it was selfish of him to stay in Kirkwall. His association with ‘The Champion’ alone placed her in danger’s path. But he couldn’t leave Hawke. Even if he broke her heart and ended their relationship before it had a chance to truly flourish, he would remain at her side until she ordered him to leave. Fenris nearly balks at the thought. Perhaps the old ways of a slave never truly left him, jumping from one master to the next ….

“Is this a bad time?”

As if his intrusive thoughts somehow beckoned her to come forth, Fenris turns to see Hawke in his doorway. She does not step forward. Even after all this time, she always waits for his permission to come forth, always respecting his boundaries. He nods, and she steps into the room. As she nears, he can see the dark circles under her eyes, the weariness that has replaced a once brilliant gleam. 

While eleven full moons haunt Fenris, it is eight moons that haunt Hawke. Her mother’s death had stolen the vibrance from within her. Another reason to detest blood magic. Once, he found himself jealous of Hawke, jealous that she had a family, jealous that she had happy memories to reflect on. But perhaps in this matter, he is the lucky one. He could not truly mourn for a person he had no recollection of. And Hawke … how she loved Leandra. Much has happened to Hawke in such a short span of time. The death of her mother, while the sharpest blade, was one of the few. After she’d been named Champion of Kirkwall, Isabela, her best friend, fled the city. The pirate, while never pretending she was anything less than selfish, was still Hawke’s trusted companion, her partner in crime. Without Isabela there to share drinks with, to confide in, Hawke seldom left her estate other than when Kirkwall had need of it’s Champion. Occasionally, she attends Varric’s games of Wicked Grace and Diamondback, but any laughter given is forced. And although Hawke doesn’t speak of the bitter betrayal of her friend the pirate, Fenris knows how it chips away at her, how it adds to the burden she already bears. 

“I always have time for you,” he says, walking over to the table they often conversed at, when times were simpler. “Sit,” he extends his arm, waving at the chair across from him as he takes his own seat. Hawke does not visit him nearly as often as she once had. An awkwardness surrounds them after their night spent together, but the mage has never held it against him. Still, she turns up at his doorstep again and again with offers of coin if he wishes to help her on her many errands, Kirkwall always needing aid from its beloved Champion. As Hawke sits across from him, the scent of lavender and honey wafts towards him, the smell of soap on skin, and once again, Fenris is reminded of that brief respite of torment when he found an escape from the madness in her bed. Studying her, he watches the way she bites her lower lip, a nervous habit of hers. “What troubles you, Hawke?” he asks.

Her eyes meet his hesitantly, as if she is studying him. “You,” she says, her voice quiet, unlike the confident tone he had grown to know. “You once asked me what has magic touched that it hasn’t spoiled. The answer is you, Fenris.”

Suddenly, his heart is pounding once more, not unlike that night eleven full moons ago. But it is not giddy as it had been then, instead the icy grip of fear gives him pause. They have not spoken of that night, and it worries Fenris as he wonders why she might be bringing it up now, after all this time. “Hawke- “

“Please,” she says. “Let me continue.” Hesitantly, he nods.

“We’ve never talked about what happened between us. I wanted to give you time but … it’s nearly been a year. I thought maybe we could discuss what happened.”

It is just as he feared. Fenris had hoped it would not come to this. He hoped that when he left her, she would see him for what he truly is … a broken thing. Something that would only serve to hurt her again and again. “What brought this on?” he asks. 

“Sometimes it helps to talk.”

“And what am I to say?” he snaps. “Nothing has changed, Hawke.”

Despite the brashness of his tone, she maintains her calm demeanor. “I told you I would wait as long as it takes. I just need to know that I still have a place in your heart. That one day … when you’re ready, we can pick up where we left off.” Hawke lets out a sigh, her tired eyes searching his own. “You’ll come back to me one day, won’t you?”

“Is this truly what troubles your mind?” Fenris asks. “That single night we shared?” she blinks at his callous tone, looking stunned as if he has struck her. Guilt picks away at his mind. Fenris stands, walking away from the table and turning his back on her. Once again, his eyes gaze into the burning fire. Perhaps he needs to hurt her for her to move on … perhaps it is closure that she really is asking for. Perhaps it is what she requires in order to find someone better suited to give her what she needs. The thought of her with another is _madenning_ , but if closure is what she needs … he would do what has to be done. To spare her of further heartbreak down the road. For all he knows, it could be another decade before he faces Danarius. He would not string her along with broken promises. Not when she has the chance to find happiness with another. Someone better.

“Leave, Hawke. There is nothing for you here.”

“So that’s it then?” she asks, a tremor in her usually steady voice. Fenris grimaces, heart dropping to know it is his words that wound her so. But he can’t give her a thread of false hope. Not when he is so uncertain of what the future holds for him. If Danarius were dead, things might be different. But so long as the magister lived and breathed, an invisible chain would always hold him in place. He wasn’t free. Not truly. And what of his sister, still in the clutches of Minrathous? So long as she was out there somewhere, he had to focus his efforts on finding her. He could not give Hawke the life she deserves. Not when he’s a feeble shadow of the man he could be.

“It is done. I have said all there is to say. You should move on.” He still faces the flames, not brave enough to look her in the eye. If he were to, she would see it in his eyes …that his callous words are but a charade for the true longing in his heart.

An insufferable silence follows, but when Hawke finally makes a sound … a single, silent sob, his ears twitch as if a detonation of gatlock has taken out half of Hightown. How his heart lurches at the sound, and it takes every ounce within Fenris to stay still. All he wants to do is turn around and tell her how he really feels. How there is a constant ache within him every moment she is absent from his arms. There is nothing that Fenris wants more than to swivel on his heel, to march over to her and to kiss her so hard until their lips are both bruised and they can no longer breathe. 

But he does not turn around. He does not tell her how much he aches for her, nor does he kiss her with every ounce of passion within him. Instead, he listens to how she flees from his room, feet scurrying down his worn out steps. He listens to the slamming of his front door that follows a broken cry, a sound so heartbreaking it shakes him to the core. 

“I am sorry,” he says aloud, head hanging with guilt. Fenris does not sleep that night, nor the night that follows. When he does sleep, he dreams of nothing but Hawke. Hawke and her midnight hair and her ocean eyes, eyes that gleam with the tears he denied himself of seeing. Even in dreams, he can feel her heartache, and when he wakes, it is to his own tears running down his cheeks.

Fenris drinks. He drinks and he breaks things, and when he tires of that, he drinks some more. Weeks pass, and the only time he leaves his manor is when he runs out of food. No longer does Hawke come to his door to collect him for errands. Instead, company shows up in the form of Varric and Aveline who voice their concerns for his well being. _Their_ concerns, not Hawke’s. They do not speak of Hawke, and Fenris has better sense than to ask. 

A short time after the twelfth full moon has come and gone, he spots her in the market. She does not see him when she turns around. Her eyes are gleaming, but unlike in his dreams, they do not gleam with tears. Laughter is in her voice that carries across the market. Not her forced laughter of late, but true glee, the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard … until it isn’t. 

Anders, _the abomination_ is with her, and Fenris watches in horror as he wraps a horrid hand around the small of her back, holding her close as they walk away. Hawke clings to him as one does to a familiar lover. Suddenly, Fenris is dizzy, feeling as if the air has been knocked from his chest. When he said she should move on, he had meant for her to find someone better. Someone kind and deserving of her love. And Anders is the least deserving person of this. 

Now, all that’s he’s left with is a world of regret. Fenris knows now, above all things, he absolutely cannot leave Kirkwall. He will not leave Hawke with a viper in her midst. Even though it will hurt to stay, he owes her at least this.


End file.
